A Sheep In Wolf's Clothing
by JERSIIIfied
Summary: Because they were part of the disgustingly rich and famous. This isn't just a war anymore; it's business. Jon/OC -side Arya/Gendry, Sansa/Sandor, Robb/OC. Modern AU.


**WARNING: SWEARING AND MENTIONS OF SEXUAL SITUATIONS. Valid throughout the story.**

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"_**This house no longer feels like home**_"

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"Arya! _What the hell is going on_?"

Gasping and desperately out of breath, the dark haired beauty futilely attempted to break Arya's surprisingly firm grip- it was cutting the off the circulation in her wrist. However, when the young Stark woman just continued to drag her through the crowd, seemingly oblivious to her friend's discomfort, Morgan Vi Lorenzo realised she wasn't going to get an answer from her long-time friend. Arya was nothing, if not frustratingly stubborn. So she just let the petite lady carry on; she was going to eventually pry the answer from the unwilling northerner anyway- might as well get out of this crowd in the mean time. Who knew Ned Stark's untimely resignation from the Baratheon Group of companies would result in such havoc? With so many photographers and workers that had turned up for the president's public press conference, she wondered how in God's name Arya managed to navigate them through it. It seemed the CEO's suspicious death has managed to spark off a lot of speculation. But fortunately, before Morgan could fry her brain any further (out of sheer, helpless frustration, no less), they had managed to emerge from the crowd.

…but as quickly as they had left the conference chaos, they had entered a new one. Swiftly, almost expertly (which was suspicious, since her father had specifically warned her not to wander around defencelessly), Arya directed Morgan through the rush hour crowd of modern day London, straight into the awaiting doors of a discreetly hidden car. And as soon as they were in, the car sped off.

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"_Goddammit, Robb_! You're practically starting a _war_!"

He groaned in frustration, seeing the sheer determination on his brother's face; Jon Snow ran a hand over his face in annoyance. When it became apparent the Robb Stark was staying stubbornly silent, Jon was sorely tempted to shake his brother in the vain hope of trying to force some sense back to him, or if only out of utter frustration. "A _war_, Robb; a war you _know_ you _can't win_"

Robb just glared at him and resumed filing through the ominously large pile of paper work one of his many secretaries just handed mere minutes ago, adding to the pile that was towering precariously off the edge of the desk.

Jon glared at Robb (who was now studiously avoiding his gaze) and at the horrific amounts of work his brother has to do. "Serves you right, punk. No one told you to pull out of Baratheon Enterprises" and with one uncharacteristically scornful look directed at Robb, Jon Snow was angrily stomping out of Robb Stark's office, the President and CEO of what was now being more commonly referred to as the 'Stark Empire'. "I'm going back to Scotland!"

The sharp slamming of a heavy, oak doors, and then he was gone.

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"So you're Yoren? Of _Night's Watches_?"

Morgan could barely breath; heck, she could barely even think! She was going to Night's _head office_! "I love Night's watches! They're fucking _incredible_!" she practically screamed, not having been this excited since she found out she got her GCSE results. "You're here to inquire about transfers to the main office, right? Right?"

"Yeahh…" Yoren gave her a look, then turned to look at Arya. "It's just _watches_" he muttered incredulously.

Arya gave him an unreservedly tortured look in return. "Don't even get her started on the new rose gold collection; it's like you just put a sugar-deprived kid in the candy shop" she snapped distractedly- agitated, before returning to texting on her phone, where she was desperately trying to get into contact with her brothers, her mother; heck, even her _sister_- anyone! Sighing in frustration, she threw her phone uselessly against the padded cushions of Yoren's car, even as it pulled into the coach station. And then Yoren was hastily ushering her and Morgan out, leaving her barely enough time to grab her phone.

Good thing Morgan was too distracted by the idea of exclusively seeing the upcoming collection to question why they were suddenly heading to Scotland- Arya had was more than distracted _without_ her best friend's questioning. _Life sucks_, she thought, sighing exasperatedly as she saw Yoren introduce Morgan to 2 young men who was apparently awaiting them.

When she finally reached them, Yoren stepped forward. "Boys, meet Arya. Arya, meet Gendry Waters and Hot Pie."

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_2 days ago_

Arya gave a choked sob as she re-read her father's note.

_Arya,_

_The Stark and Baratheon merging is now nulled; there is no need for us to be here anymore. Robert Baratheon was murdered. Joffery is not your godfather's child- he knows that I'm aware, so he'll be after us. Find Yoren of Night's Watches; he'll take you to Jon. Take Morgn with you; god knows you'll need her. Don't get caught, at all costs. I'm sorry child, this was my entire fault. But know that I'll try to stay alive, for our family's sake. I love you, Arya._

_Love,_

_Your father._

_._

_._

_._

_Burn this letter._

-:-:-:-

"After the disastrous response to Ned Stark's resignation as the president of the Baratheon Group of companies following his best friend's, and previous CEO of said company's death, Ned Stark is now no-where to be seen; there has been alleged reports of some friction between the old CEO of the Stark Empire and the new CEO of the Baratheon Group of companies, Joffrey Baratheon- Robert Baratheon's eldest son, post resignation. However, there are no necessary evidence to support this claim, leading to further speculation concerning the Stark's unexpected departure, as everyone had assumed the ex-president would help guide Joffrey Baratheon through the tough times ahead. There has also been news of a sudden board meeting called by the new CEO of the Stark Empire, Robb Stark, as soon as Ned Stark's resignation was publicised; is the young Billionaire already facing trouble? Tune in tomorrow for further news on the disgustingly rich and famous. This is Jeyne Poole, and you're watching the 10 o'clock ne-"

"HEY! What the-" Rakharo turned from where he was sprawled carelessly against his boss' plush velvet couch, fully prepared to shout at who had dare to turn off the TV (the perks of being the VP), only to come face to face with the man himself. He gulped, _petrified_; Drogo Stormborn was a terrifyingly intimidating man. Said man just continued to stand there, arms folded against his broad chest, face stern. It looked like the man was about tear his head off, when his wife walked through the door with his son, causing him to visibly relax and move immediately towards her, scooping the giggling Rhaego into his gentle, but strong arms. Daenerys Stormborn was a life saver indeed.

Rakharo sighed, almost collapsing back into the couch from merely sheer relief- but he held strong, maintaining his firm, attentive stance which he had quickly straightened into as soon as he saw Drogo. Years of intimidation by _Khal_ Drogo would do that to him, although a Khal, Drogo was not- well, not in paper, but in attitude. After Jorah went on holiday to some exotically isolated island in the middle of nowhere, he revealed that the leader/president of the island community was called the Khal, whose authority and sense of leadership was eerily reminiscent of Drogo. It lead to everyone jokingly referring to Drogo as the Khal, in turn causing them to name Daenerys the Khaleesi. At first, the couple (Well, mainly Drogo), was annoyed by the titles, but when it seemed like the name would stick and would not be gone for a long while, he let Jorah teach him how to say 'the moon of my life' in Dorthraki, if only to amuse his wife, who had also started to fondly refer to him as the Khal, and 'my sun and stars', to which he had no qualms.

And as much as Rakharo valued his life and feared Drogo's wrath, he could not help but tease his old friend again. "So Khaleesi, are you relieved that now you have Rhaego, the Khal won't be as inclined to bedding you every damn night? I mean-"

Rakharo barely dodged the punch to his head.

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"Sansa! _Come here_!"

Joffrey grabbed roughly at her arm, causing her to wince slightly. Of course, the small indication to her discomfort went conspicuously unnoticed by her _beloved_ fiancée. "Hurry up, you _bitch_" he hissed harshly, his words remaining unheard over the blaring speakers of his pent house suite. Joffrey Baratheon was hosting his 4th party of the week, his enthusiasm at his new found authority over a multi-billion corporation strangely suspicious, considering his father had passed mere weeks past. It sure didn't seem like there were _dark times ahead_, Sansa thought bitterly. _Pity_.

"I said hurry the fuck up! God, you're so useless!" he scoffed, giving her a meaningfully hateful glare, before his expression shortly took a 180 degree turn; they had finally reached the evidently wealthy gathering of people near the back of the apartment. Diamond rings and obnoxiously large pieces of gold glittered in the lights, as the obviously _elite_ teens of society warmly greeted Joffrey; man hugs and man shakes resumed, as random girls attempted to give Sansa hugs- like they were close friends- which she meticulously avoided. Girls that were probably conspiring to steal her fiancée, Sansa realised, noticing the unnecessary touches, and the flirtatious batting of (fake) lashes, here and there. But Sansa did not mind; she did not mind _at all_.

Joffrey made great pantomime of being the caring fiancée, putting his arms around her shoulder, pecking her every once in a while. But she knew what they were; they were not only a show of his possession, but it also served as a warning. A warning to her- to not embarrass him any further. His arm was painfully tight around her shoulders, seeming like a restricting cage around her; his kisses served as a cover for the crude words he whispered in her ears. All the insults, the sexual insinuations. Sansa shivered delicately. _They could have him, for all I care_.

Joffrey continued showing off to his friends, bragging about how much she enjoyed the _sex_, and how they did it _everywhere_ because she just couldn't seem to be able to _resist him_. Sansa was about to disagree, when his nails dug into her shoulder; she almost cried out in pain, but she saw the look in his eyes. So she stayed silent.

"She's so pretty, isn't she?" Joffrey announced, harshly grabbing her chin. "Like a pretty little doll, too stupid to do anything but listen to her master"

His friends started laughing, the girls _attempting _to muffle their giggles behind professionally manicured hands; she could see it in their eyes. '_Serves you right, slut'_. Sansa wanted to leave, but she knew she couldn't, so she endured it all. The mocking laughter, the fake happiness.

Until she felt Joffrey stiffen beside her. She immediately thought she'd done something wrong, until Joffrey suddenly moved away from her. Until she almost breathed a sigh of relief, but refrained herself. Until she saw who was here, and who Joffrey had now fully focused his attention on.

"Margaery Tyrell! What a pleasant surprise!" the brunette smiled seductively up at Joffrey, who was so blatantly leering at her exposed cleavage. Sansa didn't even bother at the deliberate disrespect towards her.

She was too busy trying to conceal a _smile_.

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**READ IMPORTANT A/N!**

**A/N: My writing can get pretty inconsistent, depending on my mood (level of tiredness), so when I'm feeling hyper, and know my writing won't be up to par with this (the sombreness), I'll write on the 'Of Direwolves and Fangirls' story I'm writing with LiviLottie (Check her out, guys! She rules! An avid Robb lover!).**

**The first chapter is just to set the scene, but the rest will be mainly focused on the Jon/Morgan pairing.**

**I haven't seen the whole series (Too much effort, _YO_), so there will be plot holes. And I'm kinda speeding this shit up, so I'm not sure the whole thing will be in chronological order *shrug*.**

**I'm not usually dedicate to my writing (I only do it for fun), but if I get sufficient support for this, I'll be more inclined to write. This will be my only 'important' A/N, unless something comes up.**

**Feed the hungry;**

**PLEASE REVIEW.**


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